Page 28 of Escorting the Bodyguard
“Of course not. You shouldn’t have to.” The business edge returns to her voice, but it’s layered with genuine concern. “What will you do now? Financially, I mean. Do you need help with?—”
“No.” I look around at the chaos surrounding me. “I’ll figure something out.”
“You always do,” Victoria says, and there’s real affection in her voice. “But if you need anything—a reference, connections, whatever—you call me. You’ve been one of my best girls, Gemma. I won’t forget that.”
After we hang up, I sit in the quiet of my living room, processing.
Tim is gone. Really gone. The threat that started this whole nightmare is over, and I should feel nothing but relief.
Instead, all I can think about is Ford’s face when I told him about the baby. The way he went completely cold, like someone had flipped a switch and turned off everything human in him.
See? This is what happens when you get too comfortable, when you stop trying. Men can smell desperation, Gemma. They can sense when you’re damaged goods.
The voice slips into my head before I can stop it. My mother’s voice, as clear as if she were sitting right next to me. The same words she used to whisper when my father’s calls became less frequent, when his promises started feeling empty.
If we were thinner, prettier, easier to love. If we didn’t need so much. If we were the kind of women men fight for instead of run from.
My chest constricts, that familiar shame flooding my veins like poison. I can feel myself becoming desperate to be better, shinier, more worth keeping, just like I did at twelve when Dad’s weekend visits became monthly. Then never.
I sit there for a moment, letting the thoughts circle and bite. The same ugly loop I’ve been stuck in since Ford walked away.
But then my hand moves, almost without conscious thought, to rest flat against my stomach. And something fierce and protective rises in my chest, cutting through the shame with startling clarity.
No.The thought is sharp, certain.Not this time.
I won’t let her poison this. Won’t let decades of conditional love touch this perfect, innocent life growing inside me.
This baby doesn’t care that I’m not perfect. Doesn’t care that my hair gets messy or that I make mistakes or that I’m not always put together. This tiny life inside me just... is. And already, fiercely and completely, mine to love.
My mother made me believe I had to earn everything. Love, attention, the right to stay. But this baby will know it’s wanted just because it exists. That love isn’t something you have to perform for.
For the first time in my life, I tell my mother’s voice to shut up. And remarkably, impossibly, it does.
I take a shaky breath, feeling something shift inside me. Not fixed. Not even close. But maybe the tiniest bit stronger. Like I remembered I have a spine.
Pounding on my door interrupts my revelation. Three sharp knocks that could wake the dead.
“Gem, open up. I know you’re in there.”
Rae—another escort at Elite, and possibly my loudest, most loyal friend—of course it’s her.
I catch a glimpse of myself in the hallway mirror and wince. A couple weeks ago, I would have died before letting anyone see me this undone. Now I don’t have the energy to hide.
I open the door to find Rae in full regalia—vintage fuchsia coat, platform boots, winged eyeliner sharp enough to cut glass. She takes one look at me, and her expression shifts from annoyed to genuinely worried.
“Jesus Christ, you look like hell. When’s the last time you washed your hair? Or ate actual food?”
Subtle, as always.
“I just got off the phone with Victoria,” I say instead of answering, stepping aside to let her in. “Tim pled guilty. Three to five years.”
“Good. I hope he rots.” She pushes past me, then stops dead when she sees the state of my living room. “What the hell happened here? It’s like Project Runway threw up in your apartment.”
I sink back onto my couch, suddenly exhausted again. The brief moment of clarity is fading, leaving me feeling wrung out and fragile. “I quit.”
“Quit what? Cleaning?” She kicks a tangled mess of ribbons out of her way. “Because that’s obvious.”
“Elite Companions. I’m done escorting.”
